by Chris Bishop
‘What if the Ealdorman comes back with reinforcements?’ I asked. ‘You said yourself that you can’t defend these ruins.’
‘It’ll take time for him to levy enough men to challenge me again and I’ll be gone long before he does.’
‘But surely you’ll wait to see if he returns with the silver he’s promised you?’ I asked in the hope of persuading him to stay long enough for help to arrive and thereby improve my chances of being rescued, but Torstein wasn’t so easily taken in.
‘What do you take me for? Some kind of fool? He won’t be back to pay what’s due as even he’s not that stupid. And don’t think me battle shy. As I’ve said, my men are weary and need to rest. I’ve bought them two days’ respite, that’s all. Besides, we already have enough booty with all we’ve taken from this Abbey and we couldn’t carry any more even if we had it.’
‘Then what about Caelin or whatever his real name is?’
Torstein pointed to the door from which the abbot’s body still hung. ‘There’s room enough on there for him,’ he said. ‘And for you as well if the mood so takes me.’
* * * * *
On the second morning Torstein sent two men to ride up the escarpment to see if there was any sign of the Saxons coming to pay the promised tribute, though I suspect he would have been surprised if there was. As the riders returned they stopped having spotted something of interest. One of them dismounted and went across to a small clump of bushes and, as he approached it, a man rose up from his hiding place and started to make a run for it. He didn’t get far before they rode him down and rather than put up a fight, he raised his hands to surrender. He stood there for a moment before being roughly ushered down the hill at spear point to where we all waited. I could hardly believe my eyes when I realised it was Aelred.
Though I tried not to show it, Torstein could see that I recognised the new prisoner. ‘Do you know this man?’ he demanded.
I shrugged. ‘He’s my servant and I’ll curse any man who harms him,’ I answered fearing I might draw Aelred into my troubles.
Aelred looked confused at first but was sensible enough to go along with what I’d said. It looked as though he’d taken something of a beating during the battle as he limped slightly to favour his left leg and had several cuts to his arms, though none of them serious.
Torstein went across and grasped Aelred by the chin, tipping his head back so he could stare straight into his eyes. ‘Looks like your servant shares your love of dying,’ he said. ‘All the other fools who survived the battle were wise enough to flee when they had the chance. Or perhaps like you this one can return from the dead at will?’
For a moment I thought Torstein would put that to the test by killing Aelred there and then. He had no reason not to despite my threatened curse, but instead he stepped back as if checking Aelred over, much as a man might inspect a horse he was thinking of buying.
‘We’ll take him with us,’ he announced. ‘He looks strong enough to be worth something where we’re going and, if nothing else, he can help us carry our spoil.’ He then had Caelin dragged across to join us. ‘As for you, all I can say is that your father lied,’ he said bluntly. ‘He promised silver but has delivered none. Your life is therefore forfeit to my sword.’
‘He may yet come!’ pleaded Caelin, having seemingly forgotten or chosen to ignore all I’d said about dying bravely. ‘It would take time to raise so much silver for it’s the third time in as many summers he’s had to pay tribute.’
Torstein clearly found that amusing. ‘I know, it was me he gave it to the last time,’ he bellowed, turning and repeating it to his men so they could share the joke. With that, two of them stepped forward to cut Caelin’s bonds and, as soon as they released him, he fell to his knees.
‘Pah! Kneeling is all you miserable Saxons seem to know – whether it’s in prayer or to beg for mercy!’ said Torstein. With that he drew his sword. ‘Well, let’s see how you like the edge of my sword. That should stop your snivelling.’
Caelin raised his hands as he implored him to be merciful. It was a pitiful and futile effort as even I could see that as no tribute had arrived, Torstein had no choice but to keep his word as his men would not respect him if he didn’t.
I think Caelin realised that as well and so, still on his knees, he started to pray, beseeching God to receive his soul. Without waiting for him to finish, two men seized him by the arms and half carried, half dragged him back towards the doors where the abbot still hung, by then a wretched and decaying corpse, half blackened by the fires and already beginning to reek.
For a moment I thought they were going to crucify Caelin as well, but it was all part of their cruel torment. He was still screaming as, having shown him the abbot’s fate, they hauled him over to the fire. It had been relit after the rain and although not as big as the one used to torture the monks, it burned brightly enough. I assumed they were going to boil his blood as they held him there, so close to the flames that the heat scorched his face. Yet it seemed they’d already grown tired of that game. Instead, they lifted him bodily between them and tossed him, still screaming, into the flames.
All this I watched in horror, surprised and grateful that I was still alive but wondering what they would do when my turn came. I hoped I would make a braver fist of it but having seen poor Caelin’s fate and that of the abbot and all the monks at the Abbey, I was not sure I would endure it any better than they had.
‘So, not so sure of yourself now, are you?’ said Torstein.
I thought back to what it had been like to face the prospect of being tortured that night at Guthrum’s camp in Chippenham. There I’d prayed in earnest as I waited to die but, although the prospect of my death then was terrifying enough, all I had just witnessed seemed to sap whatever resolve I had left.
‘Ah, for once it seems you’ve nothing to say for yourself,’ teased Torstein. ‘Then let’s say that that poor wretch died to save you, just like your precious God. What do you think of that?’
I looked across to where Caelin’s body still burned and shook my head. ‘I say it was a dreadful thing to do. You should have just killed both him and the abbot with your sword and been done with it. You didn’t have to be so cruel.’
‘Don’t worry, boy. I’ll think of something special when your turn comes,’ he promised. ‘In fact I’ve half a mind to let you fight one of my warriors who is too badly harmed to march from here. Either he’ll perish at the edge of your sword and thereby be assured of his place in Valhalla or he’ll kill you thus saving me the trouble.’
‘Is that because you fear to kill me yourself?’ I challenged angrily.
He shook his head. ‘I’ve no fear of drawing my blade across your throat,’ he assured me. ‘But I do fear what the fates might then bring down upon us if I do. So for now I shall spare you so that I may learn more about this nailed God of yours. What puzzles me is how he can give you so much strength when you did him so much wrong. But make no mistake, once safely returned with our spoil I may well cut out your so-called pierced heart and see it for myself, for that intrigues me as well.’
* * * * *
Aelred was bound to me so that neither of us could move without the other.
‘I haven’t thanked you for saving my life in that skirmish,’ I said to him quietly. ‘That man who knocked me down would surely have finished me but for you.’
‘I thought you killed,’ he said. ‘I did what I could, but as we feared, there were just too many of the bastards.’
I acknowledged the truth of that. ‘So how did you manage to survive? The last thing I remember is seeing you fall as well.’
‘I was lucky. The fools were distracted by a woman they saw making a run for it. They left me long enough for me to roll away into the bushes where I hid until the slaughter was done. Later, when they’d gone, I made my way across country but was met by some of the locals and taken to their Ealdorman to be questioned, a man named Lord Sigbert. It seems he’d been unable to find this band of b
utchers but once I told him where the last attack had taken place he insisted I go with the fyrd, if only to prove I wasn’t lying. After the battle I had no mind to stay with them so hid just beyond the rise in the hope that I might help you to escape. This morning I drew closer when I sensed they were about to pack up and leave and…well, the rest of it you know.’
‘I wish you hadn’t as I somehow doubt your luck will hold much longer. These are murderous bastards as you can see. Have you any idea what happened to Brother Benedict?’
Aelred looked down at the ground. ‘Mercifully, the poor bastard was knocked half senseless when they struck him as they advanced. When the battle was done they stripped him naked then hung his wriggling carcass from a tree and flayed him alive, peeling the skin from his body and then leaving him to bleed out in agony, though I doubt he suffered long.’
I crossed myself at the news, for it was indeed a terrible way to die.
‘So what’s to become of us?’ asked Aelred.
‘I don’t know. For now they seem afraid of killing me but that won’t hold for ever. Once they get over all their qualms God only knows what they’ll do to us. You saw what happened to young Caelin.’
At that point it seemed as though Torstein was anxious to leave, probably because he couldn’t be certain whether or not the Ealdorman would return bringing reinforcements and, worse still, a more able commander to lead them. As he’d said himself, his depleted force was in no position to fight again so soon.
He had his men begin to prepare themselves to march out but, before they could leave, there was still one man who lingered on the threshold of death, being too badly injured to move and with little hope of life. His left arm had been severed during the battle just above the elbow and although the wound had been cauterised and sealed with a heated blade, there was no guarantee that it would ever heal fully. He was clearly too weak and fevered to march so Torstein needed to decide his fate. As was their way, they mixed a strong broth of leeks and herbs which had such a pungent smell it positively reeked. They’d given that to the man to drink the day before and had a crude and simple test which they could use to determine whether or not he was likely to recover. If later they could smell any trace of the leeks emanating from the wound it meant that the seal had failed and therefore there was little more that could be done for him.
Once satisfied that the man was indeed dying, Torstein went to speak with him and although I cannot say what passed between them, I imagine he offered the man a choice of either being put to the knife or being left to die fighting if and when the Saxon reinforcements arrived.
It may seem strange to ask a wounded man how he wished to die but the wretch was clearly in a great deal of pain so if the Saxons didn’t return he would face a long, slow death as the wound festered. On the other hand, if they did return he would get the chance to die fighting and so earn his place in Valhalla. I half wondered whether Torstein would carry out his threat and have me do battle with the man but, as far as I know, that option was never mentioned.
In the end the man chose to die there and then. Having thus decided, his comrades went to him one by one to say their farewells and, as they did so, he gave away his war gear and other possessions, clasping their hands firmly to seal the bargain. That done and without any further ceremony, he was given his trusty battleaxe to hold and then plied with mead. Drunk and roaring his defiance, he didn’t notice as one of the men crept up behind him and, whilst he was distracted, deftly slit his throat.
His funeral was like those I had seen before insomuch as they cremated his body, feasting and drinking as they watched it burn. Aelred confirmed that they also recounted stories of his life as they raised their drinking horns to wish him well on his journey to the afterlife.
The next morning, having by then disposed of the remains of all their dead, Torstein ordered the other survivors to gather up their things and prepare to leave. As the group set off, two of the horses and the cart were needed just to carry all the supplies and provisions they’d secured from the Abbey, including four very large sacks, each brimful of booty.
By the end of the first day we’d made very little progress before we needed to stop and rest, setting up a makeshift camp beside a river, though I’ve no idea exactly where we were.
I’d also forgotten about the rider who’d been sent to negotiate a ransom for my release. He returned during that first night but, as expected, the news he brought was not good.
‘It seems Alfred doesn’t want a warrior with a pierced heart,’ said Torstein.
‘That’s because he doesn’t know it’s me,’ I said, glancing at Aelred.
Torstein shrugged as though it mattered not to him one way or the other. ‘Well, it’s too late now,’ he said. ‘Our raids have been well rewarded, especially with all we took from those pious monks at the Abbey and my men are now keen to be on our way with what they have.’
‘Why not let me go to Alfred and persuade him to pay what’s due? I give you my word that I’ll return, either with the silver or without it.’
‘Your word?’ queried Torstein. ‘What would that be worth to me?’
‘It could be worth a great deal of silver if you trust me.’
‘I trust no one,’ he said. ‘Especially not some Christian boy who has tricked the Gods and now wants to trick me as well.’
‘It’s not a trick. Alfred would pay well to see me safe and what have you got to lose, you’re only going to kill me anyway?’
Torstein seemed to consider that for a moment, then looked around him. ‘I’ll tell you what I have to lose,’ he said at last. ‘The trust of all these men who would follow me to the very gates of Valhalla if I ask them. What would they think of me if they saw I’d been duped by a mere boy?’
I could see what he meant. Jarl or not, just like the Saxon Ealdormen, Torstein needed his men to believe in him. ‘So what’s to become of me if I add no value to your purse?’ I asked, realising that the reason I was still alive was not just because they feared killing me, it was also because they’d hoped for a large ransom.
He thought for a moment. ‘I recall that I promised to kill you with that sword you said had once belonged to your father,’ he replied at last. ‘Would that not be a fitting way for you to die?’
‘From all I’ve seen of death it doesn’t make much difference so long as the blade is sharp and the stroke is quick and clean.’
‘Ah, now there’s a thing,’ he said. ‘A quick death is something all of us wish for, but I think my men would rather roast your bones or skin you alive. They’re even suggesting that we let the horses trample you to death so that the consequences of killing a man who has returned from the dead will not trouble our fate as the beasts will take the blame.’
I tried to imply that it was all the same to me. ‘I’d prefer the sword, but you’ll do what you will,’ I managed. ‘Though remember that my God is all seeing and all knowing. Whatever vengeance he chooses to inflict upon those who harm me will not be settled on a few horses but on those who set them to it. And as you know, he’s a powerful and dreadful God, fiercely resentful of any who harm those he’s chosen to spare.’
Torstein seemed to find that worrying. ‘Then it’s as well I’m minded to spare you,’ he said. ‘But not because I fear you or your precious God.’
‘Why then?’ I asked.
‘Because I need you and your friend. I have much work for you both where we’re going.’
‘So where are we going?’
‘South, towards the coast,’ he said. ‘I have a boat there, well hidden from view. It’s not large but it will carry us and all our booty as far as the great river which flows through the settlement you call London. You and your friend will be needed to help man the oars as all my men are weary or wounded. Have you ever been to London?’
I shook my head.
‘Ah, then you have much to learn. It is, as I say, a very large settlement built in the shadow of what was once a Roman garrison. One of Guthrum’s most
trusted and senior Jarls has summoned all who would join him to assemble there.’
‘What for?’ I asked.
Torstein just grinned. ‘All you need to know is that he is called Hakon the Bonebreaker and that he is much feared as a warrior.’
‘Is he to disperse lands to those who served Lord Guthrum?’
‘Perhaps,’ he said. ‘Or perhaps he’ll launch a fresh offensive of his own once he has an army assembled.’
‘But Guthrum has pledged himself to peace,’ I said. ‘That was the condition which Alfred imposed and which Guthrum swore to uphold. It was a Holy vow which he offered to swear on his ring dipped in blood.’
‘Oaths are like women,’ he said dismissively. ‘You promise anything to keep them in bed when you’re horny and then forget them when you’re not. Besides, Guthrum won’t be there. And anyway, he’s probably now given that ring to someone else as payment for some service or other. So what does that make his oath worth?’
‘He was also baptised,’ I said contritely.
I was surprised when Torstein seemed to take that more seriously. ‘Was he?’ said the Viking. ‘That is a matter of some weight. It would greatly displease our Gods if they think he has forsaken them.’
‘Well, it was surely no ploy. Guthrum came to admire the strength of the Christian warriors and the trust we place in our one true God.’
‘Are you saying that even he now worships the nailed God?’
‘He seemed sincere in that belief from all that I could tell,’ I assured him.
Torstein looked doubtful. ‘I can’t believe that someone as powerful as Lord Guthrum would convert so readily.’
‘Well, I cannot say whether he has remained devout, but he and other Jarls of senior rank did agree to convert to our faith after the battle at Edington. Perhaps he did so to ensure his life was spared but somehow I don’t think so…’
Torstein turned away for a moment as if to consider all I’d said. ‘If it was a ploy then Guthrum is a fool,’ he said at last. ‘Our Gods would not countenance the worship of another, even as a ruse to gain some advantage.’